Well, shit. It’s the Sunday before Monday and early on in the itchy season. I sit down to write and find it difficult because my hands are too busy chasing down flares of itchiness all up and down my back and head and arms. I think my brain is dehydrated, too, because the ideas just aren’t flowing these days.
On the bright side, it’s also sicky season and I’m getting lots of hours at work covering for the weak and getting union wages to do it. I’m making dollars so fast I can barely keep up with converting them to rice and rifle ammunition.
Plus I’ve got other projects besides this blog. There’s the preliminary research I’m doing for Secret Project #1A. There’s that novel I’m reading. And the various side hustles I’m developing. And keeping up with all the trades I’m jack of but not master. And dishes. And Warzone 2100.
But mostly I scratch.
So rather than post mediocre content here just to meet a self-imposed deadline, I’ve decided it’s wiser to announce a short hiatus for the Wretched Facts. I’m going to take some time to assemble a few things that are worth your attention. (Frankly, the recent stuff has been a snooze. Too much tl;dr and not enough jokes.) Four posts ought to be a good amount. Once I’ve got that put together, I’ll start posting again.
In the meantime, I’ve got to give great thanks to Ferdinand Bardamu at In Mala Fide and Charlie Bushmeister at the Single Dude’s Guide for giving a lot of juice to this blogging cycle. And the only traffic. If you’re reading this page, it’s probably because you’ve already read theirs.
So check back in a month or so. I’ll be back with a fresh haircut and a ruthless vengeance.